


What Wedding Bells Bring

by ASwornStark



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: But very little plot tbh, Cunnilingus, Dry Humping, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Flirting, Frottage, Happy Ending, Like so much flirting, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-05
Updated: 2017-04-05
Packaged: 2018-10-15 00:02:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10546602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ASwornStark/pseuds/ASwornStark
Summary: She whined low in her throat at the twinkle in his eyes, feeling her mother’s gaze on her and knowing she would swoop in if Myrcella didn't take his hand. She grabbed him hard, leading him onto the dance floor.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This might turn into a little series with some of the other pairings!  
> -Izzy

Watching her little brother get married made a knot loosen in Myrcella’s chest. The first brother to get married off had been Joffrey, of course, to the Tyrell girl who giggled and whispered far too much for Myrcella’s taste. That wedding was elaborate and held in the middle of spring while flowers were blooming all around and pollen made Myrcella sneeze during the wedding reception. It was the way of the Tyrells though, and she couldn’t insult.

 

Now though, as Tommen got married, it was a Northern wedding. Northern weddings were simple and intimate and Myrcella glanced at the pretty green lights around the room that matched her brother’s eyes splendidly. She’d heard that Sansa, with a year off from school, had planned the elegant event with Myrcella’s brother and she made note to thank her for all the assistance.

 

Her father had never been happier than when he and Eddard Stark gave their blessing to match two of their children. Myrcella wasn’t one to cry on occasions such as these, but watching Tommen marry Bran Stark, who he’d loved since he knew what the word meant, brought tears to her eyes. They threatened to spill over and stain the floor-length green dress she was wearing. Her mother wouldn't be pleased at all.

 

It was Robb who handed her a tissue–“Sansa’s got no pockets so I’ve got half a box shoved in mine,” he said—smiling and patting her back. They hadn’t seen each other since she’d left for the University of Dorne in the fall.

 

She couldn't help noticing that he was very, _very_ handsome. She’d noticed before of course. They’d known each other since they were children and Robb was building snow forts with her and Arya and Jon. He’d grown considerably since those days. His suit fit him well. Robb’s mother was very particular about her children dressing properly and even if Robb was approaching twenty-eight, she was still hovering over him and would be forever if she had any say. His hair was still a brilliant auburn colour that glinted in the sun but it found more of a purchase on his face nowadays. Myrcella blushed, remembering Arya entering Stark Manor one day, yelling about how Myrcella had a _thing_ for facial hair—she’d witnessed it as Oberyn Martell walked into their lecture hall after a few weeks away on sick leave.

 

It was more than just his looks that Myrcella cared about. In fact, she’d been quite in love with Robb Stark since she was a child. He was funny and kind, never seeming upset when Myrcella interrupted him to ask for help with homework. He joked that Joffrey ought to help her, but ultimately spent hours on end with her while Theon and Jon played video games. She could remember learning to dance with him for a wedding, while Arya learned with Jon and Sansa with Theon. They were ten and fifteen at the time, spinning about and awkwardly touching each other's waists. She could remember trips to the beach when she got older still, watching Robb attempt to flirt with girls while she read a magazine and watched. He was quite awful at it and it made her smile. Up until then she was always awkward around him, blushing any time he entered a room. But they began to enter an easier friendship during her final years of high school, opening her up to casual conversations that made Arya groan. She remembered the last time she’d seen him, leaving Stark Manor for her second year at Dorne. He’d hugged her, smelling a little like alcohol which was surprising, and kissed her wetly on the corner of her mouth. His hands had lingered on her, pulling her into him again to kiss her forehead and whisper that he never wanted her to leave. She'd slipped away with a small smile and gotten into her car, driving away with him on her mind.

 

She sighed, focusing on the present situation rather than her frustratingly tame past with Robb Stark. Myrcella knew that Tommen had arranged the tables for the wedding and she was slightly embarrassed, thinking about his decision to place her beside him. The boy was an absolute menace, deciding to meddle in her love life at any chance he got. She had him to thank for Trystane, her ex-boyfriend who’d kissed her like she was made of glass. The table fit all of Tommen’s and Bran’s siblings as well as Jon if he ever showed up. Robb hadn’t seemed to mind being beside her at all. He’d brought no date that evening, though Myrcella had heard he’d been seeing a woman for a few months.

 

“How is…Talisa?” Myrcella asked, blushing at forgetting the name and glancing to him with apologetic eyes.

 

Robb was unaffected by the lapse. “Alright, I assume. We’re not together anymore.”

 

“Oh?” She scolded herself for asking.

 

“Went abroad.” Robb shrugged, turning and smiling at her. “Why do you ask, Cella? Do you have a _friend_ to set me up with?”

 

It was a long-standing joke that most of Arya and Myrcella’s friends had a thing for Robb. Not surprising, but not pleasing to either of the girls, for different reasons.

 

She snorted, nudging him with her elbow as she took a sip of champagne. “I think your mom has that covered. Plus, you’re far too old for all of my _friends._ ”

 

“Ah,” Robb smirked, feigning thought. “And I suppose you’re too immature for any of mine.”

 

“I’m _plenty_ mature. But I didn’t ask, though, did I?” she pointed out.

 

Robb’s eyebrows were raised at her proclamation before he swallowed and shrugged, opening his mouth to say something before Arya interrupted, telling them to get a room. Myrcella would have blushed if it was anyone except Arya speaking. Instead she laughed, only glancing at Robb after she’d taken a few more sips of champagne and spoken to Rickon about the classes he was missing due to his brothers’ nuptials.

* * *

  The one thing about weddings that bothered Myrcella was their length. She was lucky that she and Arya were spending the night at the hotel they were celebrating in, seeing as getting back to the dorm room would be a four-hour drive. However, even with no rush to get back to school, Myrcella was waiting for an opening to sneak out. She’d hoped that at the dancing portion of the evening which was scheduled just after picture time, she could slip away. Instead, she was dragged onto the dance floor by her own traitorous brother and forced to dance with him, his groom, and Joffrey. She was turning to leave her surly big brother at the end of a song when she noticed Trystane Martell walking towards her, knowing that under the social pressure, she’d never refuse the offer to dance. There was a hand on her arm and she glared up at Robb, with the same knowing face that she imagined Trystane might wear.

 

“Don’t you dare say you—”

 

“May I have this dance, Myrcella?”

 

She whined low in her throat at the twinkle in his eyes, feeling her mother’s gaze on her and knowing she would swoop in if Myrcella didn't take his hand. She grabbed him hard, leading him onto the dance floor. The song was slow this time, which was probably why Trystane had been looking for her, and Robb’s hands settled at the small of her back. She set her wrists around his neck, rolling her eyes when he winked at her.

 

“If you didn’t want to dance you could’ve said no,” Robb said, shrugging. He still looked at her through his lashes with a devilish grin.

 

“And have my father hear about it? He’d be beside himself.” Myrcella rolled her eyes and he laughed, deep and quiet.

 

“Why’s that?”

 

“Just because he’s already got one Stark son-in-law, doesn’t mean he wouldn’t go for another,” Myrcella said, smiling.

 

Robb eyed her. “I doubt he’d marry you off to _me_ of all people. Rickon is more your speed.”

 

They both laughed, glancing over at Rickon who was in a corner with Myrcella’s cousin Shireen. They were holding hands and giggling together and it only served to make the older Baratheon and Stark laugh harder.

 

“Out of luck then, I guess.”

 

Robb smirked at her, continuing to sway lightly. There was a stark difference between the way they’d danced when they were children and the way they did now. Myrcella felt a small flicker of pride at the ease with which he held her, not quite like a lover, but not quite like a mere acquaintance, brought together by Arya. The song ended and out of the corner of her eye she could see Trystane’s dark curls were coming towards her. Tugging the Stark gently behind her, she walked towards the doors to the hall, meeting Tommen’s eyes at the entrance and giving him a wave before she stepped out. She remembered that he and Bran were spending the night in the hotel and catching a flight to their honeymoon tomorrow, so she imagined that she could give them a proper goodbye in the morning. She felt a hand at her back and turned, forgetting that Robb’s arm was still in her grip.

 

“Are we going somewhere?” Robb asked, looking at her with a funny smile.

 

“Sorry, I was using you as a shield from Trys. You can go back,” Myrcella said, unclenching her fingers from around his firm bicep and turning to walk away. Her cheeks were a little bit pink.

 

He followed her to the elevators, shrugging when she raised a brow at him. “What if Trystane comes looking for you? I’ll just get you up to your room.”

 

“Quite chivalrous of you.” She rolled her eyes, knowing he was possibly more bored of the party downstairs than she was, and allowed him to come along into the elevator. When they got inside, Myrcella sighed, leaning back against the cool mirrored wall and shivering as her bare arms and shoulders made contact. Robb did the same on the opposite side of the elevator and stuffed his hands in his pockets.

 

It wasn’t too late yet, but the elevator didn’t stop once until it got to her floor. Myrcella was grateful. All she wanted to do was pull off her dress, wipe off her makeup, and watch one of the films she was supposed to dissect for her media class. The key card beeped as she opened the door to her room and she held the door open for Robb wordlessly before shutting it and going to the bedroom. She stripped out of the dress quickly, leaving it a ragged mess on the floor, before pulling her school sweatshirt over her head and washing her face. She contemplated pulling out her laptop but decided against it, walking back out to where Robb was sitting, fiddling with his phone. His eyes lingered on her bare legs for a second before looking up at her and crooking one side of his mouth up.

 

“Hungry?” Myrcella asked. She had a room service menu on the coffee table but she also had some granola bars from the drive over. “Or are you going back?”

 

“You going to sleep?”

 

She shook her head.

 

His smile was bright and Myrcella felt herself grow warm as he ran a hand through his hair. “If that’s an invitation, Cella, I’ll stay.”

 

Myrcella nodded, going to the mini-fridge to grab two beers that Arya had brought for the road. His phone made a soft noise and Myrcella, ever the nosy one, leaned over his shoulder to check it as she sat down. A picture of Jon flashed across the screen and she turned to Robb, leaning her head on her hand.

 

“I didn’t see him once,” Myrcella said, nodding at Robb’s phone.

 

“Ah that’s because he ducked into the kitchens the first chance he got—he’s trying to avoid the Martells, you know?”

 

“ _Right.”_ Myrcella winced, thinking about Trystane’s quiet mention of his Aunt Elia whom he’d never gotten to meet. “Daddy dearest didn’t leave the best impression, did he?”

 

“Ygritte’s keeping him busy anyway, so that’s sorted.”

 

She made a soft noise in her throat, a smile forming at the thought of Jon and Ygritte going at it in some supply closet in the kitchens. Robb answered a text from his cousin as Myrcella took a hard swallow of her drink. She settled into the couch, close to Robb but not really touching, and they hung out in silence for a while. That was fine with the both of them though. Myrcella checked her emails, of which there were several, while Robb answered Jon that no, he didn’t have any condoms on him, nor would he come all the way downstairs to give him one if he had.

 

“Tell me about that guy,” Robb said, finally setting his phone on the coffee table face down. He’d turned the ringer off and kicked off his shoes to stretch out on the couch.

 

“How specific.”

 

“Trys Martell.”

 

Myrcella couldn’t hold back a laugh at that. “You know, we talk about our love lives far too much.” She folded her nervous hands in her lap, trying not to think about the fact that she was talking to Robb about something like this–his love life was one thing but hers was quite another seeing as it hadn’t really existed in the time they spent together.

 

“You _asked_ about Talisa!” Robb argued.

 

“Because I was trying to be polite, you big dolt.” Their eyes met briefly and she shrugged. “Tommen arranged it so I went. We were together for a few months and he…erm…we wanted slightly different things.”

 

Robb looked amused. “Like what?”

 

“Never _you_ mind!” Myrcella snapped as Robb let out a grunt of laughter. She elbowed him in the arm and blushed. “I told you, we should stop talking about our love lives.”

 

Robb ran his fingers along the neck of his beer bottle, collecting the condensation and rubbing his fingers against his thumb. “When you love someone as much as _I_ love _you_ , it's bound to come up. And anyway, you’re the one that proposed marriage to me while we were on the dance floor.”

 

She blushed at the mention of love, but shook it off as best she could. He was only joking. “I was teasing you and making fun of my father—don’t get a big head.” Myrcella ran her fingers through his hair and gripped it, acting as if she was checking for signs of swelling. Robb batted her away, still playful.

 

“I’m not getting a big head!” Robb insisted and pointed a finger at her, “You, Cella, have been flirting with me all night.”

 

Myrcella scoffed, “Don’t be silly.”

 

“You should kiss me,” Robb said, “After all that flirting I don’t think you'd want it to go to waste.”

 

She furrowed her eyebrows at him, mouth gaping comically as she cast about for something to say to him. “You flirted right back, Robb Stark, don’t you deny it!”

 

“An admission of your undying love!” Robb half-shouted, his smile devious. “Oh, what would your mother say, Myrcella!”

 

“Gods, you’re a dramatic prick,” Myrcella laughed as he tickled her under her knees like he used to when they were kids. “Were you always so fucking dramatic? It’s highly unattractive.”

 

Robb snorted. “Now don’t lie.”

 

Myrcella tossed back her bottle once more with a small smile on her lips before pointing at him, eyebrows raised. “Big. Head.”

 

“I’m a realistically attractive man.” He shrugged. “S’not like you don’t think the same.”

 

“I just told you I didn’t find you at all appealing.”

 

“I _meant,”_ Robb said, “that you think the same of yourself. But I’m still quite attractive regardless of your lies.”

 

It was stupid of her and she knew it, but her heart fluttered. She didn’t deny that she had gotten the best of both her parents’ looks. Cersei had given her beautiful golden locks and striking green eyes and Robert had given her…well she wasn’t quite sure. But something good, she assumed, as he’d been quite handsome in his youth. Despite all the physical strengths she knew of, she was still self-conscious. She assumed that she was always to worry about her looks no matter what good things she pinpointed. She couldn’t help but compare her tiny breasts to Margaery’s, or her short, stubby fingers to Sansa’s. Her posture was positively atrocious and her hips jutted out just a pinch too much for her own liking.

 

But all of those little flaws seemed a bit stupid after hearing Robb’s words. He hadn’t called her pretty. But he believed that she ought to have the same confidence _he_ did–mostly feigned and underappreciated seeing as he very rarely dated–which was meaningful all on its own.

 

When she looked up at him after a moment, he was watching her with a look of worry on his face. She really _had_ been quiet for a long time.

 

“Cell, I’m sorry if I, er–”

 

“Can I ask you something?”

 

Nervously, he nodded to her. He set his almost empty beer bottle down on the coffee table and leaned back to look at her properly.

 

She took a deep breath. “If we were the same age, d’you think we would have ever gotten together like Bran and Tommen?”

 

Robb’s lips twitched. He had a strange look on his face, almost nervous and almost incredulous. It was the sort of look he had when he couldn’t joke his way out of a situation. Myrcella had seen it a few times when she was a teenager watching Arya’s big brother amble his way through university.

 

“Gotten together in high school and married the moment we graduated? Doubtful.” Robb breathed in deep, resting his hand on the couch between them. “You don’t do risk. Neither do I.”

 

“I like taking risks. And you act like you and Theon didn’t get up to all kinds of shit during school.”

 

“What’s the riskiest thing you’ve ever done?” He raised an eyebrow at her in question.

 

She blushed, not needing to look at his eyes to know that he was giving her the _I’ve got you there!_ look on his face.

 

It was a horribly clichéd plan. If Arya saw her right now she’d groan–and also possibly punch her in the nose since this _was_ Robb.

 

“I suppose luring you up here counts as risky business, doesn’t it?” she asked, voice innocent as she shifted closer. When her gaze flicked up to meet his she smiled. His eyes were wide, not unwelcoming, and a little bit excited. _Gotcha._

She’d thought about kissing Robb Stark since she was fourteen years old. Back then he’d preferred a clean-shaven face and the kiss in her mind was closed-mouthed and fully clothed. This was a different sort of kiss. She went in with her lips parted already, feeling his hands immediately on her legs. She felt heat pool inside her at the way he skimmed his fingers along her skin, pulling her as close as can be _without_ her climbing into his lap. The scratch of his beard against her chin was arousing to her and she forced images of Arya’s beard theory outburst from her mind–especially blocking out the image of Robb’s smug, bearded face at the words.

 

Her hands seemed to take on a life of their own, pushing his jacket down off his shoulders and tugging on the black suspenders he was wearing. She broke apart for a second to admire Robb Stark wearing suspenders–a dorky yet completely endearing thing to witness. He rolled his eyes at her smirk and surged forward again, kissing her hard as he shrugged out of the elastic and then worked at the buttons on his shirt when he felt her tugging aimlessly at them.

 

Robb pushed her sweater up lightly, kneading her breasts to a quiet moan of approval. Myrcella reached for the neck of it and pulled it off, leaving her in her black laced underwear before her best friend’s older brother. Her best friend’s older brother who was six years older than her, had a beard, and who she'd been in love with since she was a kid. _Fuck_.

 

Myrcella threw one leg over his, settling him back into the couch cushions and kissing him deeply, both hands on his face while his roamed her back. He cupped her shoulder blades in both palms, kissing a wet line along her jaw and down her throat. When his hips jerked up against hers she couldn’t help the moan that escaped. The Robb she knew would chuckle at something like that–tease her maybe, for the outburst. This was a different Robb. Not Robb, Arya’s brother, but Robb, a guy she was about to do something with she might regret.

 

It was strangely pleasing how easily they moved together. At some point without any prompting, Myrcella shifted her weight to her knees, rising out of his lap and giving him just enough time to kick off his dress pants before grinding back down against him. With one less layer between them, Myrcella could feel his cock between her legs. She felt herself blush at the heat between both of their legs, pressing further and drawing a soft groan from Robb’s lips.

 

“I love–” Myrcella mumbled, stopping herself quickly before she could embarrass herself. “We could use the bed.”

 

He lifted her easily and carried her there, half kissing her and half paying attention to the way so he didn't hit anything. Once they were in the bedroom, Robb was on top of her, ripping her panties down her legs and kissing her stomach while he rubbed her inner thighs with calloused fingers. Myrcella’s breath hitched, looking at him in awe. He didn’t look up at her with a challenge in his eyes as she expected. He looked at her with reverence. It surprised and scared her.

 

“Robb!” she cried out, hands shooting out to fist in his hair when he licked her tenderly. Her head fell back, unable to hold herself up to look at him any longer. His name felt strange in her mouth, but right somehow. It made her wet just thinking his name–thinking that it was _Robb Stark_ doing this to her. If this was going to be a one time deal for him, Myrcella knew that it would, at the very least, be in her mental directory for all future personal _sessions_.

 

He took his time between her legs, licking and sucking and pressing blissfully long, thick fingers inside of her at just the right angle and just the right speed. She was close enough that her toes curled in the sheets and with that signal, Robb righted himself and crawled on top of her.

 

“Sure about this?” he asked, burying his face in her neck to mouth at her skin some more.

 

She nodded, knowing he felt it. Myrcella gripped his waist and he shifted so that he was between her legs. His shorts came off quickly and Myrcella didn’t spare much of a glance at Robb’s cock before it was pressing inside of her insistently. The pair of them made identical noises deep in their throats. Myrcella’s eyes squeezed shut at the thick intrusion, not at all painful, but quite intense.

 

“Fuck me.” Her arms wrapped around his neck and her ankles locked behind his back.

 

With a little bit of the old Robb she knew, he snorted. “I suppose that’s the best course of action given our situation.”

 

His pace was slower than she’d imagined it, but his hands more than made up for it. He cupped her breasts, rolling her nipples in his fingers and making them darken. Over time, he moved on from her breasts to focus on the area he’d paid so much attention to while he ate her out mercilessly earlier. He snaked one hand underneath her body, forcing an arch in her spine as his other hand found her clit. He rubbed in quick, firm strokes that she was grateful for. She showed her appreciation by rolling her hips more enthusiastically against him.

 

When she came, his name was on her lips, repeated like a breathless mantra that she was sure would embarrass her later. Her body felt like it was pulled tight, tiny explosions dancing beneath her eyelids and across her nerve endings. She felt Robb’s pace pick up and then she felt his blunt nails digging into her back as he came inside of her.

 

“ _Gods, I love you!”_ he gasped, making Myrcella’s face colour instantly, even in her post-orgasmic haze.

 

Robb lay there for a few minutes, collapsed over her form like a deadweight. She could feel his cock begin to soften inside of her before he finally pulled out, rolling to the other side of the bed. Feeling acutely naked, Myrcella shimmied beneath the sheets, unable to tear her gaze from Robb after what he’d just said.

 

“You alright?” she asked.

 

“Are you?” Robb countered.

 

Though she was unsure, she couldn’t help but answer honestly. “Fuck yes.”

 

He nodded in agreement and smiled, amused at the intrigued grin she wore for him. “You leave for Dorne in the morning, right? With Arya?”  

 

“At around ten.”

 

Robb bit his lip, shaking his head. “Would it be weird if I stayed and saw you both off?”

 

She couldn’t seem to think of it that way. Even with the awkwardness she felt about it being _Robb,_ it wasn’t a bad feeling. He’d said he loved her in the heat of the moment. He’d not yet taken it back. Myrcella felt elated. Schooling her features, she shrugged, glancing at the clock which read a quarter to one. “A little sappy for me, but I wouldn’t mind it,” she teased.

 

He found his boxer shorts on the corner of the bed and slipped into them before crawling beneath the covers with her. She wondered if he’d talk about what just happened but he didn’t.

 

“So,” Robb said, tangling their legs together and snuggling against her, “wasn’t your half-brother supposed to be here? Gendry, right?”

 

Myrcella looked at him curiously before a laugh escaped her throat. “Robb…Gendry was at _our_ table.”

 

“But…wait hold on.” Robb did a mental count in his head. “But… _my sister is not fucking a twenty-six year old man!”_


End file.
